


Abominations

by dendraica



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Hunters, Post-Finale, Zombies, apparently empathy and compassion are terrible qualifications for this job, mentions of gore, poor kid, supernatural references (tv), the valentinos are creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendraica/pseuds/dendraica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robbie gets drafted into the /other/ family business. It doesn't end well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abominations

The tombstone was beautiful and relatively new; polished black marble with loving words etched into its surface. It had only been there since last fall, but the thing attempting to crawl out of the caved-in hole was even fresher.

Robbie watched it silently, reluctantly holding the shotgun his mother had told him to fetch. "I don't get why you need me to be part of this," he complained.

"We feel it's about time you became more involved in the family business, sweetheart," she told him. "Especially after all that's happened."

"Your mother's right. No more sticking your head in the sand, Robbie. These are technically still our customers, and I'm sure their families would rather they remain dead," Dad put in soberly. "Certainly after everything they paid!" he added, with a bright chuckle.

Robbie kept his eyes on the zombie. 

She still had most of her hair, dark curls matted with dirt and mold. Her fingernails were long and caked with sediment and bits of casket lining from her long trek up to the surface. The corpse looked around frantically, chest heaving and jaw moving open to cough up the dusty earth she'd inhaled. 

He was pretty sure zombies were supposed to look way more dangerous than this. They probably weren't supposed to look at you in confusion and bewildered familiarity. 

Robbie read her headstone and swore under his breath. 

Evelyn Waimes had sat beside him in algebra last year. They'd seldom spoken, but he remembered sketching her nose because he liked the shape of it. He remembered when she'd stopped to help him pick up his scattered prismacolors after some jerk had slapped the case off his desk. 

He guiltily remembered not worrying about her empty desk all morning, until he heard about the car accident.

Of course he'd gone to the funeral. He'd been drafted as a pallbearer anyway.

Her brown eyes were now stripped of melanin, leaving strikingly pale blue irises. Evie focused them on Robbie, mouth stretching out to form his name. Only a clicking wet sound was produced, but he could read what remained of her lips. 

He _couldn't_ do this. Nobody in their right mind could expect him to, he'd freaking known her --

"Now honey," his mother chided, squeezing his arm as he recoiled. "We can't let the dead just roam around, peeking in windows and eating brains! The amount of refunds we'd have to shell out would bankrupt us!" 

She lightly batted his arm, fond empty laughter doing little to stave off his horror. Robbie winced at the firm grip his father suddenly had on his other shoulder. 

"Come on, Robbie. Right through the temple. It'll be dark soon and your mother wants to start dinner. Spinach quiche sounds good, right?"

Evie was staring at the gun now, recognizing danger. She slunk lower to the ground and tried to pull herself free of the chasm trapping her waist. His mother planted the shovel in front of her face, impeding Evelyn's progress. She turned back to Robbie and this time managed to make a thin desperate noise.

"We don't have to do this," Robbie argued. "She's not hurting anyone."

His father sighed in amused exasperation. "It's just a reanimated corpse, Robbie. It isn't who you think it is anymore."

Evie reached out to him beseechingly, eyes locked on the gun. A beaded bracelet hung on her desiccated wrist, sparkling green in the dying sunlight. She tried to make pleading sounds into words with her rotted mouth.

"I really don't . . . "

"Son, if you actually need me to explain why it's morally acceptable to kill an abomination, then I will be happy to - over dinner. Just pull the trigger already, I'm starving!"

"Dad," Robbie said helplessly, chest tightening as he started to panic. "This isn't a video game, okay? This is really messed up, like practically murder or something! Look, everyone else in town is letting things go back to normal, right? They're just ignoring the monsters and stuff. So why can't we just let her -"

He felt the rifle suddenly snatched from his grip and shouted as his father brought the barrel swiftly up to aim. "What - NO!"

He dove to try and wrest it away, but his mother held him back. She spun him clear and Evie's terrified wail was drowned out by the loud report and splatter of brains on a solid surface.

Robbie let out such a stream of expletives that his mother let him drop ungracefully onto the grass. 

"Robbie Stacey Valentino!" she admonished, as though he had no earthly reason for being this distraught. As though his former classmate's brains and tissue matter weren't slowly leaving wet tracks down her headstone. "What has gotten into you?!"

"Me?!" he shouted back, trembling too hard to stand. "How the fuck can you _do_ shit like this? She wasn't dangerous, she was scared and . . ." He let out a harsh sob, feeling his gorge rise as something wetly plopped into the grass. "Sh-She probably didn't even understand she was dead!"

"Well," giggled Mrs. Valentino, looking at the mess. "She certainly does _now."_

"How can you laugh?!" Robbie cried out, cutting her off. "It's not funny!"

"Oh, I don't know, it's pretty hilarious. Our own son, a diplomat for zombies!" Mr. Valentino chuckled. "We ought to start a newsletter."

"Sweetie, there's just some things you can't understand until you've walked a mile in someone else's shoes. We've been doing this for decades and trust me, it only gets easier," his mother explained. "Just don't try to humanize them so much. Sometimes it can even be fun!"

Robbie stared at them, infuriated and horrified and sick to his stomach. "Ugh. I can't even look at you guys right now!" he snapped, turning his head. 

"Wait, so is all this _too_ dark and edgy for you?" laughed his father. "What if you turn this into one of those angsty little guitar songs you're always writing? 'My Daddy Blew Up My Zombie Girlfriend' is a good title, don't you think?" 

Mrs. Valentino thought so, fairly howling with mirth. 

Robbie went still, emotionally withering on the spot. All the fight left his body in a dejected huff, shoulders drooping. He crouched lower without realizing, not able to withstand this on top of everything else just now. 

"Oh, stop being a baby," his mother snickered. "Your father's just trying to lighten the mood."

"Stay out here and compose a bit. Maybe bury whatever's left of your girlfriend, though I wouldn't tell that Tambry girl."

"Shut the fuck up," Robbie snarled.

His mother pointedly dropped the blood spattered shovel next to Robbie as he sat shivering in the grass. "You can come get dinner after you apologize for that potty mouth of yours, young man."

He glared, leaning his back against a taller headstone, and listened to his parents as they walked toward the house.

"He at least didn't get sick like you thought he would, dear," his mom was saying. 

"True, but the other hunters were right. We should have desensitized him, maybe involved him much earlier than this. Like those boys of John's. Dean started at only half Robbie's age, and look at him now."

"Next time the Winchesters visit, perhaps they'll have some ideas."

Robbie waited until he couldn't hear them anymore, sitting curled up beneath the headstone. He stared blankly at a blade of grass near his foot, feeling tears slide down his face. It seemed like too much effort somehow to wipe them away, even when they dripped uncomfortably off the end of his nose. 

Evie's hand was lying upturned, bracelet still faintly sparkling. Robbie reached a trembling hand out to it, barely touching one of the glass beads. He couldn't bring himself to touch the decayed flesh while she'd been 'alive', reaching out to him for comfort. 

She had never once asked for anything but his help.

His breath shuddered and he broke, sobbing quietly in distress. 

Robbie clutched her hand now, wondering how many scared undead teenagers he'd have to kill before he could possibly learn to enjoy it.


End file.
